by Kate Baray
“No.” Jack moved to the edge of his seat. “No, that can’t be right.”
“I’m telling you it is,” Harrington replied grimly.
“I don’t think I mentioned it when we spoke last, but we had a healer in the vicinity of the corpse—purely by chance. He was convinced Blevins had died over three hundred years previous.” Jack clenched his teeth. “I’m not doing that math.”
“We suspect Blevins has been actively stealing memories for the last two hundred, maybe two hundred fifty years. If his creator used a different method to sustain him, that would account for the discrepancy.” The sound of shuffling papers traveled over the line then Harrington said, “Again, we’d like to thank you for your efforts. If you could send a report to IPPC detailing the specific method of execution and what brought Blevins to your attention, that would be most helpful.” A dial tone sounded.
“Of course he ends the call before I can decline the request for a report. That seems about right for Harrington.” A stupid thing to bitch about—but Jack’s head was spinning with the possible numbers.
Marin settled back into her chair. “Maybe, but that was the only thing remotely normal about that call. I get the impression Harrington feels like he owes you. I’ve definitely not heard him that uncomfortable before.”
“And the giant white elephant?” Jack asked.
“Yeah—how the hell did he get away with it for so long? I don’t know, Jack. Staying mobile? Victim choice? Let’s just be glad Dottie Wallace loves her mom so much, that she likes trendy hair salons, and that she decided to walk into your store.” Marin nodded. “Yeah, I’m calling this a good case.”
“Sure. Okay.” Jack rubbed his temples. “We did catch the bastard.”
“No, seriously.” Marin smiled—a genuine smile, not one of her terrifying, toothy dragon grins or snarky half-smiles. “We did something good.”
“Yeah, I guess we did.” Jack turned back to his computer. “And it’s our store, not mine.”
THE END
Spirelli Paranormal Investigations
Episode 3
CHAPTER ONE
Sparkling red lights flashed in front of Jack’s eyes, and his ring tightened on his finger. Red lights...witch? Blue was spell caster. White, healer. Yellow, Lycan. Green, miscellaneous other magic. Yeah, red was witch. In his shop, right now. And the day had started out with so much promise, so beautifully uneventful.
He kicked his feet off the edge of his desk and headed into the retail area of The Junk Shop.
A woman wandered in between the tables of junk, her gaze never lingering for long on any one object. Late forties or early fifties, casually dressed, and nervous, if her darting gaze was any indication.
Jack checked the register area but didn’t see Marin. “Anything I can help you with?”
She turned to face him and immediately started twisting a chunky ring on her right hand. “Charlotte sent me. She said you might be able to help me. You do protection work, correct?”
“Sometimes. I’m Jack Spirelli.”
Clearly she knew that, but his other option—who the hell are you?—seemed to lack tact.
Worry lines deepened on her forehead and around her mouth, making her look pinched. Older. “Sylvia.” She started to extend her hand then changed her mind and clasped her hands together. “Sylvia Baker.”
Why did that name ring warning bells? It took a few seconds, but all of the tiny connections finally came together. He’d walked out of a former client’s office with a stack of letters from her aunt. The client had been missing, the letters might have been relevant, and he’d been short on time—so he’d grabbed them. And read them. More than once. Jack felt a fleeting twinge of guilt when he remembered he’d stashed them in his bottom left desk drawer. Well, hell. He’d meant to return them.
Sylvia peered at him. “So how does this work? How do I hire you for protection work?”
“Just to be clear, you’re Charlotte Sneed’s Aunt Sylvia?”
Sylvia’s eyebrows lifted. “She mentioned me?”
“You came up in the context of the Coven.”
Jack would normally invite a prospective client into his office at this point, but the Coven of Light connection changed everything. The Coven was a batshit crazy, cult-like organization, with a lot of powerful members and no love for mundane humanity—no thanks.
Sylvia pulled a sheet of paper out of her purse and fanned her face. “Sorry—do you have someplace we can speak more privately? Perhaps...” She looked over her shoulder in the direction of Jack’s office.
As he hesitated—she was a Coven witch, even if she was Charlotte’s aunt—Sylvia fiddled with her ring. Before Jack could respond, she lifted her hand, pursed her lips, and blew.
“What the—” Jack stared at his computer screen in confusion. He’d been in the shop. Not his office. How’d he get here, sitting at his desk, when his last memory was standing in the store? And who was the lady sitting across the desk from him? “What the hell? Who...you’re Charlotte’s aunt.” Slowly, in fits and starts, it came back to him: Charlotte’s Aunt Sylvia, the Coven of Light. “What did you do to me?”
Sylvia’s nose wrinkled up in some combination of dismay and vexation. “You really shouldn’t remember. I need to work on that one.” Her eyes widened as Jack rose from his seat. “No, no. It’s completely harmless, really. Just makes you a little more compliant for a few minutes. It doesn’t last, or do any damage.”
“Your idea of ‘completely harmless’ and mine are clearly not the same. If you do anything like that again, I’ll pick you up and throw your ass out of my shop. I don’t care whose aunt you are.” Jack glared. “Or what witchy shit you have up your sleeve.”
Sylvia bit her lip. “I thought you were going to send me away.”
“You thought correctly. That was me exercising free will. I’m a big fan of it. You’ve got thirty seconds: why do I not kick you out now?”
“I want out, but I need help getting out of the country.” Sylvia sat up very straight and quickly ticked off the following points on her fingers. “I have excellent magical potions to trade. I can pay well. And we’re stronger together than apart.” She cleared her throat. “It’s possible the Coven has drawn a few conclusions and already knows I’m here.”
Jack could feel his right eye twitch. “Why would I believe someone—a Coven member, no less—who’s already poisoned me?”
“I need you.” Hands clenched tightly in her lap, she added, “I don’t have any other options.”
“Why now?” At her confused look, Jack said, “Why are you leaving now? Why not ten years ago, or five?”
“At first, it was all about learning. I liked learning new things. And I’m good. Very good, actually.” Sylvia pushed greying bangs out of her face. “But you only go so far before the Coven asks for more. I woke up one day and realized I was mid-level management. The only way up is death magic, and there’s no treading water in the Coven.” She sat up straighter and lifted her chin. “I won’t do death magic.”
Well shit.
Jack hated a moral quandary. That combined with being drugged put Sylvia right at the top his five most annoying people list.
But death magic. Jack only hesitated a moment before he picked up his phone and called Marin. “Get your ass back to the shop and bring your go bag.”
He hung up before she could ask any questions. Because, really, what the hell was he going to say?
Sylvia sat wide-eyed, silently watching him.
“Okay, why SPI?—wait.” Jack held out his hand. “Before we get into that, give me the ring.”
Sylvia’s lips quirked. “It’s empty. Really.” When Jack’s hand remained outstretched, she sighed and removed the ring.
Before Jack took it, he asked, “How does the substance work? Through contact? Inhalation?”
“Contact.”
Jack withdrew his hand and retrieved an envelope from his desk drawer. Once Sylvia had dropped the ring into the envelo
pe, he said, “I assume there’s some way to neutralize the powder.”
“Dunk it in water. Or rinse it under the tap.” Sylvia shrugged. “I told you, it’s...um, not very potent.”
“Harmless? Right.” Jack shook his head. He retrieved a bottle of water from the small fridge in the office and poured it into a disposable cup then dropped the ring in. “Why did you come here? In what universe is that a good choice?” Jack eyed the cup of water with the ring suspiciously.
“You have connections with the Inter-Pack Policing Cooperative, right?”
Jack shook his head. “Not formally. And IPPC has a strict hands-off policy when it comes to the Coven. You should know that. They won’t help.” Seeing Sylvia deflate, Jack said, “You must have had some idea of that.”
Sylvia made a sound that was suspiciously like a growl. “But I’m, you know, defecting.” She waved her hands.
Jack stopped rummaging in the office closet for his second-string travel bag. “Watch the hands, lady.”
“Sorry,” Sylvia mumbled.
He hadn’t repacked his go bag after the last trip, so he’d be relying on his back up. He yanked it out from under a box of crap he’d meant to have Marin sort through for the shop. He unzipped it and checked the contents. A crisp, clean scent puffed out. He ruffled through pressed, folded clothes. Pressed? He didn’t press his clothes.
“Does this mean you’re taking the case?” Sylvia clasped her hands in her lap.
Clean smells, pressed clothes—who cared? What the hell was he going to do about the Coven? The freaking Coven. “Tell me about this magic stash you’re willing to trade.”
Sylvia brightened. “I have some exceptional specimens. I’ve been experimenting with the concept of portable plant-based weapons. I’m particularly fond of the exploding pomegranates. But I can’t pass anything along until...well, until we...”
Jack quirked an eyebrow at her. “Defeat the Coven?”
Sylvia turned red and fanned herself. “Escape.”
Marin triggered the ward and appeared in the office door a few seconds later. Her face was slightly flushed. “What’s going on?” She scowled at Jack. “Why are you covered in witch magic?”
“The Coven’s after our new client, and we’re leaving town.” Jack picked up his bag.
Marin face was tight with some emotion. “Why does the Coven want you?” Her face went blank. “You’re a Coven witch.”
“I’m defecting.” Sylvia’s face scrunched. “I thought I was defecting. But it turns out IPPC probably isn’t interested, so...I’m a refugee?”
“Jack,” Marin drew out his name like an accusation, and her eyes turned a startlingly bright green. “Do you have any survival instincts? Seriously? The Coven is into torture, death magic, crazy shit. They do not like non-magical people. Hell, they don’t like anyone who’s not a witch.”
Sylvia stared at the wall, overtly avoiding eye-contact, while she was discussed.
“Oh, I tried to say no. Then I got witch-dusted.” Jack turned to Sylvia. “Something that won’t ever happen again.” She nodded so vigorously that stray wisps of her hair bounced. Jack acknowledged her agreement with a curt nod. “And that’s when our new friend told me we’d fare better against the Coven together.”
Marin snorted. “And you think they’ll give us as much grief if we walk away now? We pass on this job, and she’s is no longer our problem. The Coven’s not our problem. How do we even know she’s really defecting?”
“Fleeing, not defecting. And we know because I’ve read her letters.” Jack reached down into his desk drawer and pulled them out. He tossed them at Sylvia, who snatched at the bundle before it fell to the ground. “It’s all there. You have to read between the lines a little, but the discontent, the fear, it’s there.”
Sylvia clutched the letters tight. “These were private.”
“Your niece was missing, and they were a potential clue at the time.” Jack shifted the bag on his shoulder. “But we don’t really have time for this. Sylvia’s from Austin, and I’m the only paranormal investigator in town—or at least the only one with ties to the magic-using community. And Charlotte was a SPI client just a few weeks ago. So Sylvia’s right—they could well be on their way.”
As they passed through the shop, Marin gave Sylvia a hard look. “If this blows up, I know exactly who to blame.”
Jack stepped between the two women. “Is your car out of the shop, Marin?”
“No, I’m still in a rental,” Marin said.
“Right. We’ll take my car.” Jack shot Marin a warning look and murmured, “Not one word.”
Marin rolled her eyes, but didn’t utter one negative word about his Jeep. “Sylvia, how did you get here? And where are your bags?”
Bags, in other words, magical stash. Jack turned a sharp gaze on Sylvia. “Where are your bags?”
But Sylvia didn’t reply. She was standing in front of Jack’s Jeep with her mouth parted slightly. “Is it safe?”
Marin let out a rolling laugh.
Jack ignored her. “Definitely safe, and it runs great.” Jack yanked hard on the back door to open it for Sylvia. “Bags?”
“Oh. At my motel.” Sylvia settled into her seat then flinched when Jack slammed the door shut. She waited until Jack was in the car before she replied. “I couldn’t exactly tote them all around with me, could I?”
Marin slammed her door harder than necessary. That door didn’t stick—much.
“You left your...” Jack struggled to remember how exactly Sylvia had labeled her experiments. He groaned. “Portable plant-based weapons. You left them in your motel room.”
“I didn’t have much choice, did I?” Sylvia made a small, annoyed sound. “I took precautions.”
Jack just hoped those precautions didn’t include some kind of booby trap. Pulling out into the street, Jack said, “Fine. Which motel?”
After Sylvia provided the name, the three continued the ride in silence. Probably the best possible option at this point, because the tension was wearing on Jack.
CHAPTER TWO
When Jack pulled up in front of Sylvia’s room, he was surprised to see it slightly ajar. “You did put the privacy sign out, didn’t you?”
Sylvia leaned over Jack’s shoulder, squinting at the cracked door. “I could have sworn that I did.”
Jack shared a look with Marin. He took the keys out of the ignition then handed them to Sylvia. “If we’re not back in three minutes, leave.”
Jack took a breath and hopped out of the car.
“Do we have a plan?” Marin, close on his heels, asked.
“Not run into a water witch who can drown me in my own body fluids.”
“First, disgusting. Second, only the really powerful ones can do that. And third, that is not helpful.” Marin bumped into him as he paused on the stairs. When he turned around to give her a look, she said, “What?”
“Do you have a plan?”
“Clock’s ticking. Get a move on.” Marin shoved his shoulder for emphasis.
That’s what he thought. But Jack refrained from comment and jogged the rest of the way up the stairs. When he got to Sylvia’s door, he paused just long enough to see Marin was on his heels and walked into the room. No gun, no plan. He needed to do some life choice evaluating soon.
A young woman with earbuds and a cleaning cart wiped down the mirror above the sink. She caught sight of Jack and Marin in the mirror and screeched. She clutched the Windex drenched paper towel to her chest.
Relief rushed through him. Then he realized their late teen cleaner still look terrified. Apparently he looked scary even without a gun. Jack held both hands out. “No cleaning today.”
No luck. He glanced at Marin and did double-take. Unnaturally green eyes flashed. He put an arm around her shoulders, whispered in her ear, “Eyes.”
“Okay, honey bear. I’ll just head down to the car.”
Honey bear. And for that he felt completely justified in smacking her ass on the way out,
the snarky shit.
“I’ll come back tomorrow. But you need to put the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign up if you don’t want your room cleaned.” The cleaner’s accusatory tone left no doubt as to her feelings about the situation.
Jack didn’t have long to wait before Sylvia appeared in the door with Marin.
“You are terrible at this.” Jack shut the door behind them.
“What?” Sylvia’s gaze darted around the room. “You found it?”
Jack shook his head. “You’re terrible at being on the run. You forgot the door sign. And coming to Austin when you’re from here...Not ideal.”
“Too late to fix that.” Sylvia’s gaze darted around the room as she spoke. “Where did I put that chest?” She pulled something—a handful of dust, perhaps—out of her pocket and scattered it. No moer than an eye blink later, a blue plastic ice chest with a thick white lid appeared. “Besides, that’s not my expertise. All of that running around and fighting and chasing. Much more appropriate for a fire witch or a water witch.” Her lips pinched. “No, no. Not my area of expertise.”
Jack had a bad feeling about “her area of expertise.” He eyed the chest like it was a ticking bomb.
Marin pressed her lips together. But clearly she couldn’t restrain herself. “An ice chest? You have your magical stash in an ice chest on wheels?”
Sylvia snapped the retractable handle up. “You have a better idea? I thought this was clever. A more stable temperature, easy to transport. It is very heavy, so it’s difficult to get in and out of the car and up and down the steps. I took the elevator when I checked in. Otherwise, it works great.”
“That’s great, Sylvia,” Jack said. “But is it safe?”
Sylvia patted the lid affectionately. “Of course.” She blinked. “I mean, mostly.”
Jack closed his eyes. “Okay. Is it safe enough for me to carry to the car?”
“Oh, definitely. Yes.” Sylvia stepped away from her precious stash.
Jack decided that was an invitation, so he took charge of the chest. As he carried it down the steps, he decided that Marin could carry the damn thing next time. It was heavy as hell.
